


perchance to dream

by szczepter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Angst, Forever fascinated with the relationship Crowley has with sleeping, M/M, Post apocadidn't, Sharing a Bed, but just a smidge - Freeform, yeah the title is from hamlet because im unimaginative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szczepter/pseuds/szczepter
Summary: “Well then.” Aziraphale said, smoothing his hands over his trousers. “I’ll let you rest. I will be in the next room if you need me for anything.”Crowley’s glasses were gone and he stared at Aziraphale for a moment.“Angel.” He started slowly. “Remember what I said?”





	perchance to dream

Crowley liked to sleep.

Well, that was mildly put really. He _loved_ to sleep, pathologically even if his century long ‘nap’ was anything to go by.

Angels and demons and other supernatural beings didn’t really need to sleep, though their vessels could get hurt or be destroyed, so it was normal that they could also feel fatigue and exhaustion.

But they didn’t usually deal with it the same way humans did.

Aziraphale, for example, could recharge without actual sleep by simply resting which he _obviously_ needed to do if he was travelling into different locations to perform blessings (and to acquire rare books as his side project), but he didn’t really sleep. Sometimes he prayed or meditated in a comfy chair, but that was it.

He pitied poor humans for having to black out for hours every day to recharge and waste precious time which could be used for all of those marvelous activities like eating or reading or just _living_ their lives.

But, alas. Humans needed sleep or they would fall ill or _die_ even. Poor things.

He couldn’t remember if he _ever_ slept. The notion was strange and it reminded him of blacking out (which happened to him on more than one occasion in more _decadent_ times as well as companies) and _that_ hasn’t been pleasant even if the alcohol _was_ divine.

But he supposed sleep must feel different. It wasn’t really a topic which he felt like studying much, but he asked Crowley once in a casual conversation about it and the demon gave him a cocky grin.

“Well, you know. Sleep is great.” He said while stepping out of the Bentley.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Crowley closed the door and shrugged.

“It’s-“ He mulled the words over while they walked together to the new restaurant for lunch. He chuckled under his breath. “It’s like being dead but _without_ the commitment.”

Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks then, shocked that Crowley would even _joke_ about something like that. Then again, he _was_ a demon and demons were twisted creatures. But something didn’t sit well with Aziraphale, way beyond just inappropriate jokes.

It was because the crass and uncouth humor was aimed at _himself_ and that just…wasn’t right.

Crowley stopped a few meters away from him and looked back, eyebrow raised in question.

“You okay?”

Aziraphale’s own brow was furrowed and his lips were pursued slightly.

“Angel?” Crowley now sounded concerned. He walked up to him.

“Please.” Aziraphale hissed when Crowley was within earshot. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ joke like that again.”

Crowley looked taken a back for a moment. But he recovered quickly and grinned impishly.

“What? Why?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth but he really couldn’t find a good counterargument. Yes, it was a joke and yes this was Crowley. It wasn’t like such ‘jokes’ were something out of character for him.

If anything, they were really _fitting_.

But they still bothered him. Especially the implication which was just under the surface of a witty and sarcastic remark.

The grin fell from Crowley’s lips and he turned pensive. He looked down at Aziraphale, his golden eyes obscured by his shades.

“Fine.” He said after a moment of staring and shrugged. He then turned around and not waiting for Aziraphale headed towards the restaurant.

They didn’t speak about it for another twenty or so years, until _after_ the Apocalypse that wasn’t.

* * *

Crowley was sprawled on Aziraphale’s narrow couch in the back room.

The couch was obviously too small for him, his long legs dangling awkwardly over the opposite side and he struggled to find a comfortable position but for some reason also refused to either miracle a new, _more_ comfortable one or to just go home.

Not that Aziraphale minded if Crowley stayed overnight if he wanted, not after everything anyway. There was no reason for them to sneak around and hide.

But it still bothered him for some reason.

Crowley obviously didn’t _just_ sleep. He would go out and come back with two coffees – one for himself and one for Aziraphale and a sweet treat sometimes. Or he would come back with a bottle of nice wine, or he would just ‘bother’ Aziraphale so they could have on of their ‘philosophical’, century lasting discussions.

For most of the time they avoided the elephant in the room.

Still, after a brief moment of hanging around the bookshop Crowley would still disappear in the back room. Aziraphale would go check on him at least twice a day under the pretense of getting something from there, which he found silly. This was _his_ bookshop after all.

Still he didn’t want to disturb his friend.

After all he was tired after everything that happened, more so than Aziraphale himself, he supposed.

Still he it just didn’t feel right to leave him alone, even if he was just well sleeping.

So Aziraphale didn’t comment and let him stay the night. And the next one. And then the next. 

That was three days ago.

Now Aziraphale was honestly concerned.

Worried enough to go and disturb his friend’s nap.

It was just two hours to closing time, but it was late enough so Aziraphale didn’t bother to flip the closed sign on, convinced no new customers would venture inside at this time anyway.

Crowley was once again laying on Aziraphale’s couch, one hand dangling near the floor, the other thrown over his eyes, his hair was in disarray. His glasses, however were neatly placed on a small side table. He was covered with a soft, blue tartan blanket which Aziraphale left for him this morning.

Needless to say, he didn’t look _very_ comfortable or rested. Quite the contrary.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The demon lifted his arm from his face and vivid, yellow eyes peeked at Aziraphale. He looked grumpy.

“What?” He mumbled, voice deep and gravely.

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment.

“I think you should head home.”

Crowley didn’t blink. He rarely did, but his eyes suddenly focused, his narrow pupils sharpening.

He dropped his arm and sat up, the blanket falling off of him.

Aziraphale wrung his hands, feeling bad but hoping Crowley would understand that it was for his own good.

“You’re tired and my couch is not very comfortable for sleeping. You have a nice, large bed in your apartment, right?” He tried to soothe and explain himself.

Crowley simply stared at him before he closed his eyes and leaned forward to rub his hands over his face.

“Crowley?”

“I get it. I get it.” He grumbled and then to Aziraphale’s surprise slid down from the sofa to look under it.

“Crolwey?”

“What?” He patted the space under.

“What are you?”

“Looking for my keys.” His voice was a little tight.

Aziraphale simply stood there, too dumbstruck to say anything more.

“Ah, got them.” Crowley straightened up and presented Aziraphale with the keys to his Bentley.

He stood up and dusted his knees, before he grabbed his jacket and put it on. One hand movement and his wild, unruly hair ordered themselves into place.

“It’s better that way, right? You can rest at home.” Aziraphale blurted out suddenly, feeling immense amounts of guilt and trying to justify himself.

Crowley shrugged.

“Dunno.”

“What do you mean?”

Crowley didn’t say anything, simply pocketed what little belongings he had left around Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale pressed and Crowley sighed deeply. His back turned to the Angel.

“Truth be told.” He started after he put on his shades. “I don’t really feel like being alone right now.”

Aziraphale stared at his friend, feeling dumbstruck and waves of guilt pouring off of him in waves.

“But if you’re kicking me out, I’ll go.”

“It’s not…that’s _not_ what I’m saying.” Aziraphale spoke a bit louder than he intended, frustration coloring his voice a bit.

He felt ashamed that he was essentially sending a friend in need out while he was seeking comfort.

Crowley stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to continue. His shades slipped down his nose and he could see his snake eyes clearly, watching him, unblinking.

Aziraphale sighed and in irritation grabbed his coat from the rack. He snapped his fingers and the sign flipped from open to closed. Crowley raised his eyebrow.

“I’ll keep you company then. Don’t want you to get- I mean cause any trouble.”

Crowley smirked but that smile was devoid of any amusement. This time the demon snapped his own fingers and the door opened. He made an exaggerated hand gesture.

“After you.”

* * *

Aziraphale was in Crowley’s apartment only one time, somewhere in the eighties, but the details of that visit were a little murky and unclear now.

It must have involved alcohol then.

The flat looked basically the same as it did then; spacious, dimly lit, stylish and cold. The only difference was that he had more plants now.

Aziraphale shot them all a sympathetic glance as he shed his coat and hanged it on a rack.

“Don’t.” Crowley warned him and Aziraphale rolled his eyes but didn’t comment further.

Crowley’s bedroom was down the hallway. The demon snapped his fingers and the fancy, wooden door opened smoothly.

There was a huge bed in the center of the room, with silk, black sheets and fluffy pillows. It looked very comfortable and also way too big for one person but Aziraphale supposed it was what one could call ‘excessive luxury’. Very fitting for Crowley.

Aside from the bed there was a night table on each side and a window showing off the breathtaking view of night London.

There were no lamps or chandeliers yet a soft, sort of dimmed illumination was coming from somewhere.

Aziraphale looked up and Crowley suddenly wasn’t wearing his fancy, stylish clothes, but something looser and more comfortable.

He blinked.

“Well then.” Aziraphale said, smoothing his hands over his trousers. “I’ll let you rest. I will be in the next room if you need me for anything.”

Crowley’s glasses were gone and he stared at Aziraphale for a moment.

“Angel.” He started slowly. “Remember what I said?”

“Yes but-“ The Angel stopped suddenly. He had no reason to say no really. Crowley was his dear friend, _only_ friend even, and he was seeking comfort in Aziraphale’s company and well…Aziraphale wasn’t a perfect angel but he wasn’t _heartless._

“I can go find other company you know.” His tone was teasing but his smirk was empty and Aziraphale knew he didn’t mean what he wanted to imply.

Where would Crowley even go? To some bar maybe? He’d drink again? And even though he knew alcohol had only a brief impact on their bodies, and they’d have to consume _very_ vast quantities of it, it still was unsettling for Aziraphale to imagine Crowley drinking alone because he didn’t want to be alone and exhausting himself even more and more.

“Right.” He nodded after a moment and with a soft sigh snapped his fingers, his clothes changing into comfortable cotton pajamas.

They both climbed into the spacious bed and Aziraphale tried not to make too much of a pleased noise when his back and head hit the plush pillows.

“Comfy Angel?” Crowley teased and Aziraphale huffed.

“Yes. It really is.”

Crowley hummed in acknowledgement and then feel silent.

Aziraphale could hear his deep and steady breathing next to him, but he didn’t dare to turn his head and look.

The silence stretched for long minutes and it dawned on Aziraphale that he should probably follow suit and try this whole sleeping business.

Problem was, he didn’t really know _how._

He finally stole a glance at the demon next to him, Crowley’s profile was sharp but relaxed at the same time and he was completely still.

“Crowley? Are you sleeping?” Aziraphale whispered.

“Sure.” Crowley opened one snake eye. “Can’t you tell how _much_ I’m sleeping.”

Aziraphale huffed.

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

Crowley snorted.

“What is it?” He asked now without his usual sarcasm.

“I was just curious…can you tell me how does it feel? Sleeping I mean. Then I can imagine it and maybe it will be easier for me.” He explained and then added haphazardly, “And please don’t use your last morbid metaphor because that was _very_ inappropriate.”

Crowley opened his eyes and stared at the celling for a long moment that Aziraphale thought he was actually ignoring him.

But then he spoke.

“It’s like swimming in molasses.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m serious.” Crowley turned his head to look at the Angel. “Your body gets heavy and sinks into the, whatever you’re sleeping on. And your mind gets lighter and lighter. Sometimes it feels like flying but only briefly and sometimes it’s like wading through molasses. The more tired you are the deeper you go.”

Aziraphale stared at his friend for a moment.

“That makes _absolutely_ no sense, Crowley.”

“Yeah, well explaining what sleeping is not something people usually _do_ you know. They just _know_ it. And it’s different for everyone. That’s how it feels to me.” He finished with a shrug.

Aziraphale was silent before he spoke himself.

“But you don’t get tired.”

“Yes. And no.”

Aziraphale’s brain spun for a moment from all the confusing logic but decided to let this one go.

He hesitated before asking the next question but then he never could help his curiosity. 

“Why do you do it then?” He risked.

Crowley was silent again, his yellow eyes staring unblinking at the celling.

“To not think.” He said after a moment and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “And to forget mostly. You know.” He made a vague hand gesture in the air. “All of…whatever.”

Aziraphale didn’t know, because he never slept and because remembered _everything_. Even the bad things. They were just stored in the back of his memory for when he needed them for something. He doubted Crowley could forget things himself but it felt like he tried to convince his mind that he indeed could.

“I see.” Aziraphale mused to himself. Crowley hummed and closed his eyes intended on sleeping but the Angel wasn’t done.

“So, do you…do you dream?”

“Sometimes.” Crowley didn’t bother looking at Aziraphale this time.

“About?” The angel prodded further.

“Eden.”

The unhesitant reply took Aziraphale by surprise. Crowley opened his eyes and looked at him again, his mouth twisting in a serpentine and unpleasant smile.

“Surprised Angel?”

Aziraphale hesitated.

“Yes. But only because I thought you actually did forget _that_.”

Crowley’s eyes softened then.

“I can never forget that, Angel.”

Silence stretched between them in the hush of the night and Aziraphale thought that he completely understood. He could never forget that either.

He settled down finally, Aziraphale closing his eyes and focusing on the plush pillows and bedding around him.

It didn’t work. He relaxed a bit, but he still didn’t know how to actually _fall_ asleep.

“Crowley-”

“Just clear your mind. Stop thinking. Focus on…something.” The demon spoke next to him, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“You mean like counting sheep?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment.

“Do they have to be sheep?”

“ _I don’t know_.” Crowley growled, his yellow eyes flashing briefly. “I think it can be _anything_. Just count in your head.”

Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes again. He counted up to two thousand and nine of his books.

“This isn’t working.” He said suddenly.

“Oh my god.” Crowley cursed under his breath and Aziraphale was about to scold him for calling the God’s name in vain when he was suddenly yanked to the side. He yelped when his head connected hard with something.

“How about this?” Crowley said, his voice rumbling under Azirapahale’s ear. And then he heard a sound.

A rhythmic _thump-thump_.

“Oh.”

It was steady and loud in his ear, drowning out any other sounds or thoughts.

Aziraphale smiled a little at how ridiculous it was. Demon’s didn’t _need_ hearts. If anything, those were very disadvantageous for them. As exhibited by a certain someone.

“Good. Now shut up and let me sleep.” Crowley said, magicked the cover around them and settled back into his bedding.

Aziraphale focused on the sound under his ear and soon felt like he was drowning in molasses himself.

Or maybe it was cocoa.

He totally missed the gentle fingers carding through his hair, because he was out in a matter of seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> I had an itch to scratch. also i sat on this too long cos I got paralized when it turned out Michael Sheen reads fics fakjsdgfsdkjfad please don't read this Mr Sheen 


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